


King's Dance

by RealityBetterThanFiction



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Cat and Mouse, Damen Bears it With Grace, Dancing Fools, Laurent Up to No Good, M/M, NSFW, Oranges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:05:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6498292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RealityBetterThanFiction/pseuds/RealityBetterThanFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damen just wants a quiet night alone with his husband after spending three months apart. Of course, Laurent has other plans. A game of royal cat and mouse is played while the King of Akielos struggles to untangle yet another intricate plot woven by the cunning King of Vere. It's a dance of minds, but will it turn to one of bodies too?</p>
            </blockquote>





	King's Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CueTheTommo (RedPhoenix23)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=CueTheTommo+%28RedPhoenix23%29).



> A massive thanks to my truly special beta, CueTheTommo, for dragging me into this fandom. I have loved every moment of it so far despite the innumerable tears and screams of agony reading these brilliant books. Also, to the rest of the chat squad...it's been so much fun teasing these books apart with you! Looking forward to more great talks. This one is for all of you!

Damen watched from the balcony of the mighty palace at Ios as the ship bearing blue sails emblazoned with a golden starburst sailed smoothly into port. Even from high above the docks, Damen could hear the overall pulse of the city start to rise. Thousands of voices chattering in excitement, all with the same words on their lips.

 

_He is returned._

 

Damen had been eagerly waiting to say those same three words himself for what felt like ages. He strained his eyes to watch as the dock attendants all hurried to bring the ship to a rest after a journey that had taken nearly three months. Among the flurry of dark haired, dark skinned Akielons that were quickly overtaking the ship, Damen caught a flash of brilliant blond in the summer sun. The smile that rose to his lips was one he had no ability to tame.

 

A knock sounded against the door to his rooms, and he turned reluctantly away from the fluttering sails to watch as Nikandros stepped across the threshold.

 

His old friend shook his head with a look of tired amusement.

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t race down to the docks the moment you saw the ship crest the horizon,” Nikandros said.

 

Damen bit down on his lip in a poor attempt to stop the smile still on his face.

 

“It’s been a long wait, but I think I can manage to wait another few minutes. I do have some self restraint.”

 

Nikandros rolled his eyes and gave a snort that was very undignified for a man of his rank. Damen reasoned he’d been spending too long in the company of his rugged Delphan soldiers. Then again, the last campaign Nikandros had led had been alongside a certain fair haired King from the North. A certain fair haired King who had no problem keeping up with even the soldiers with the foulest of mouths. It seemed that everyone in Damen’s life had come under some degree of influence from the beloved and equally feared King of Vere.

 

“Restraint which will soon crumble under ice blue eyes. I’ll expect not to see you again for at least a week, then. Should I have guards stationed at the doors to your rooms to ensure your privacy?” Nikandros said with a quirk to his lips.

 

A low rumble of a laugh shook Damen’s chest. “No. I think we’ll have our long awaited reunion at the summer palace this time. The poor soldiers at the door last time had to stuff scraps of cotton into their ears. I don’t want to offend any more Akielon ears. Or destroy any more textiles.”

 

“I’ll inform outriders to alert the summer palace staff to have it prepared for your arrival. You can depart tomorrow morning, if that’s not too long, Exalted.”

 

“Thank you,” Damen said with a warm smile. “I think we can manage to keep things quiet for a night.”

 

Nikandros didn’t look entirely convinced. “I know you will be fairly occupied, but tell him I said hello. And that he still owes me a few of those ostentatious Veretian coins betting against Makedon on our last quest to Vask. He should have known Jord would lose the match. No one bests an Akielon with a long sword.”

 

Damen held back from telling Nikandros that the purpose of the loudly proclaimed bet throwing favor with Jord had not been gaining a few coins. The fact that Jord was now tendering a blossoming affair with one of the troop’s physicians after having been seen to so diligently in his recovery spoke to the work of a mind always thinking more than one step ahead. Damen was pleased to see Jord happy. It had been a long time coming after previous heart ache. If the mighty King of Vere lost a few coins to that end, Damen was sure it was because he’d meant to do so.

 

Damen cast one more look out the window at the beautiful blue sea framing the ship. He could already smell the salty breeze that would carry through the air even more potently at the summer palace, only to be overtaken by the orchids. He loved the way kisses always seemed to taste of oranges stolen from the blossoms after long hours spent riding through the trails on the palace grounds. There were plenty of places to tie the horses and spend a few hours in the shade simply enjoying sweet fruit and one another’s company. He decided that waiting another moment was no longer appealing.

 

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said to Nikandros, smile back in place.

 

Nikandros clasped him on shoulder and bowed his head. “Do try to save some energy. You’ll have a long ride out of Ios tomorrow.”

 

Damen had learned his lesson about not heeding the words of Nikandros. But he knew that he would not be taking this particular piece of advice.

 

His feet carried him swiftly down the marble hallways of the palace until he came to the stately front doors, taller than he was three times over. They were already being pushed aside by a group of royal guards. Damen held his breath in anticipation of who would be on the other side once the doors were fully open.

 

He was not prepared for the rush of bodies that flooded through moments later, like water rushing into his palace after a dam having broken. The brightly and strangely dressed intruders were talking at ear splitting volumes, rushing in unending streams through the entry hall carrying a host of items Damen couldn’t even begin to identify.

 

His mouth was slack as he tried to make sense of what was happening while the people around him seemed to pay him no mind at all. The deep seated sensibilities of his kingship took offense to the fact he was being ignored in his own palace. He was about to reach out to stop a finely dressed man all in vivid blue garb to ask him what in the name of Thestos was going on when he heard a familiar voice barking out orders amidst the chaos.

 

“No! The tapestries are to be hung in the _great hall_. Does this look like a great hall to you?”

 

Damen’s gaze flickered around the mess of bodies until he caught that same flash of blond that had been visible all the way down on the docks. His eyes were trained to look for it now. They had been from the beginning.

 

“Your inadequacies do not please me,” came the sharp voice again. “I can’t imagine that they will please the King of Akielos either.”

 

“Although I’m much less likely to call for beheadings for a wrongly hung tapestry,” Damen found himself saying into the crowd.

 

Bodies parted and Damen finally laid his sight fully on his query.

 

“Your Highness,” he said, nodding his head in respect although his eyes did not leave the man before him.

 

“Exalted,” was the reply, the only time that distinction felt more like a jest than a genuflection.

 

“Would you care to explain why, upon your arrival after three months spent away, you have brought half of Vere and a host of foreign strangers to entertain in my palace?” The words were carefully measured, trying to conceal his irritation. Of course it wasn’t missed.

 

With the ghost of a smile, “Afraid you won’t be enough to keep my attentions?”

 

Damen was not amused. Laurent was pleasantly so.

 

Laurent rolled his eyes and snorted. Now Damen was quite sure where Nikandros had learned his newly derisive ways.

 

“Was I meant to entertain the royal family of Lisse in the stables while you brood about the sanctity of your palace? Forgive me. I thought that Akielos was more welcoming than that despite the accusations of being led by a barbarian. The palace at Ios is the closest port to the sea after a long journey. It’s not the regalities of Vere, but it’s still something.”

 

It was as good a compliment as Damen could expect from the mouth that was more likely to spit venom than honey. After all, he knew that Laurent was fond of this place based on the disproportionate amount of time he spent here as opposed to Arles or Acquitart. The company couldn’t be the only thing that made Ios tolerable to his Veretian tastes.

 

Damen was well practiced sifting through the thorns to find the root of the issue. “And why is it that you are entertaining the royal family of Lisse?”

 

“We. We are entertaining them.”

 

“We,” Damen repeated, voice strained. “Why are _we_ entertaining them?”

 

Every moment spent in this war of wills was another moment not spent with Laurent pressed against his body after so long apart. Damen took a step forward to accomplish just that, but found himself instead pinned in place with a single raise of Lauren’t blond brows.

 

The look said that Laurent had his reasons. And that Damen would find out about them when Laurent thought it was important for him to do so. No sooner.

 

Damen didn’t bother wasting breath seeking answers he knew wouldn’t be given. “Alright. What do you require of me in this effort?”

 

Laurent’s lips curved in a small smile of victory. As if there would have been any other outcome. “Make sure the tapestries are hung in the right place. We don’t have time for any beheadings today. I’ll take care of the rest.”

 

Damen rubbed a hand over his face. He was already tired. He needed to build his endurance up again. Months without Laurent’s sparring tongue keeping his mind at practiced ease had left him unable to keep up. Laurent wouldn’t stand for that. Damen wasn’t particularly keen on being flayed like a fish until he found his verbal prowess again.

 

“Oh. And by the way,” Laurent said over his shoulder, already turning on his heel to castigate a group of attendants who had dropped a case of wine bottles on the floor, staining the pristine white marble in red. “Hello, lover.”

 

Then he was gone.

 

Damen heaved a heavy sigh, taking one more look at the previously quiet palace around him before heading off to the great hall. Already, the taste for oranges was growing bitter on his tongue, knowing he wouldn’t be indulging any time soon.

 

There were tapestries that needed his attention. Because his husband clearly did not at the moment.

 

 

xxxxx

 

 

By the time the tapestries were painstakingly hung to Damen’s, or rather Laurent’s, satisfaction, the palace transformation was already well under way for a grand affair. Palace staff - not slaves, as Damen had abolished the practice last year after a long struggle with the kyros - assisted their Veretian counterparts that had come with Laurent in preparation for the arrival of the royal family of Lisse tomorrow. After Laurent’s travels to establish goodwill with foreign lands, ending in a stay at Lisse, he had sailed out a day early to see that the invitation extended to the Lissean royalty would be upheld with all the pomp and political grandeur fit for visiting dignitaries. Akielos - unlike Vere - was not known for its overwhelming displays of wealth or pageantry, but it seemed that Laurent was on a hell bent mission to change that by the rise of the sun tomorrow.

 

At the moment, he was stationed like a drill master in the great hall with a Lissean royal advisor at his side, one of a small contingency of Lisseans who had sailed ahead with him to assist his preparations. He was still in his severe Veretian clothing, not even having time to change to a more casual chiton as Damen always loved to see on his pale form when they were in Ios. Laurent and the advisor were observing a group of musicians practicing a traditional Lissean piece while Akielon performers struggled to learn the style of Lissean dance so as to pay respect to their guests. Damen was watching the scene from his throne on the raised dais, sitting boredly with his chin in one of his hands. Judging by how it was going, Lissean dancing seemed to be more complex than anything attempted in Akielos.

 

Laurent’s pinched expression just barely hinted at his frustration. He snapped his fingers once and all sound in the hall cut off immediately.

 

Laurent took a steadying breath and then turned his gaze on Damen. Instantly, Damen straightened up in his throne as Laurent eyed him appraisingly.

 

“You there,” Laurent said, darting a quick glance to the Lissean dancer trying to coordinate the disaster. “You will teach the King of Akielos the steps to this dance. If he can manage, I’m sure the rest of his people can follow suit.”

 

Damen’s stomach turned end over end. He looked down at his sandaled feet. He didn’t have much faith in their capabilities to do anything similar to what the Lisseans were attempting to teach his fellow countrymen.

 

He looked at Laurent with wide eyes. Laurent just watched him expectantly. “We will be required to dance tomorrow in respect to the royal family. It is considered an insult not to do so. I have already learned the steps during my stay there. I’ll need a partner.”

 

Laurent didn’t speak the threat, but Damen heard it clearly in his tone.

 

_I’ll find someone else willing if you aren’t._

 

Damen found his body rising from his throne without the consent of his mind. The thought of anyone else dancing with Laurent was entirely unacceptable. But even more, the need to hold Laurent close after being deprived for so long had Damen willing to suffer whatever embarrassment was about to befall him. Judging by how hard Laurent had been to pin down the past few hours, this dance would probably be the only moment they had within a foot of each other until the banquet tomorrow was over and the Lisseans were on their way home. Damen wasn’t counting on the warmth to be restored to Laurent’s side of their bed tonight with how much was still left to do. Sacrifices had to be made. So Damen would subject himself to dancing with him now. He would take what he could get.

 

He stepped down to the marble of the grand hall floor, sandals echoing in the silence. He approached Laurent and held out a hand.

 

Laurent looked down at it in mild confusion.

 

“Is it typical Lissean custom to beg for a dance after it’s already been offered?” Damen asked, equally confused.

 

Laurent looked to the Lissean dancer, then back at Damen. “I don’t have time to teach you. Who knows how long that would take? I have other affairs that require my time. I expect you to be adequately able by the time of the banquet tomorrow. Verosa here will take care of getting you in form,” he said, nodding at the Lissean dancer.

 

He marched swiftly away from Damen with a flock of attendants in his wake, leaving Damen standing with his arm still outstretched in offerance. Verosa, a delicate woman with skin nearly the same shade as Damen’s, stepped forward and bent down to a knee in deference. She was dressed in apparel that made Damen cringe at how bright the colors were. When she stood again, she offered Damen a kind smile.

 

“Your Grace, please allow me to show you the ways of Lisse.”

 

Damen let his arm drop to his side. “I must warn you that the agility of a soldier is probably not the same as that required of a dancer.”

 

Verosa grinned. “When I’m through with you, no one will know you aren’t of Lisse. And your husband will find himself proud to have you as his dance partner.”

 

Damen found that hard to believe, but his own pride was no match for jealousy. He would not let anyone else have the honor of leading Laurent on the dance floor tomorrow. Even if he broke his ankles trying to learn how to do that properly tonight.

  


xxxxx

  


Damen was exhausted and drenched in sweat by the time he fell into his bed hours later. As predicted, it was empty and untouched despite the late hour. His body ached from his feet to his temples. His brain was spinning with the effort to remember the steps he had been drilled into learning. And he was fairly sure that he was no better at the Lissean style of dance than he’d been before his tutelage, despite best efforts on both his and Verosa’s part.

 

He had been hoping to be spent and sated from a very different type of physical exertion this eve. Now he didn’t have the energy to even _think_ about that kind of activity if Laurent did decide to show up to their marital bed.

 

Within minutes, he was sound asleep. When he awoke the next morning, still tacky with sweat and unmoved from where he’d landed after falling into bed last night, he wasn’t sure if the kiss to his forehead and the whispered, “I missed you,” had been dream or reality.

 

 

xxxxx

 

 

Damen only had a few moments of peace after he woke before the doors to the bedchamber were wrenched open and a fleet of palace staff entered without his command. He groaned at the uninvited intrusion, wondering how it was that he’d so suddenly lost control of his own palace in the span of half a day. The answer was fairly obvious. Everyone respected King Damianos, but even that reverence was no match for the sheer terror at the thought of dismissing an order from King Laurent.

 

“His Royal Majesty bids you good morning, my King,” chirped Damen’s royal overseer, Marsale, as he hurried into the room behind his staff.

 

Damen did not reply. He just pulled the sheets over his head. They were efficiently stripped from the bed a moment later, leaving him shivering in the early morning chill. No one seemed to notice his lack of garments, bustling around the room with their tasks. Marsale strode to the side of the bed and looked down at Damen with an expression caught halfway between pity and humor.

 

Marsale was a cheerful man a few years Damen’s senior who was in charge of all proceedings at the palace of Ios. He took his job seriously, and affairs at the palace ran just as smoothly in Damen’s absence for his routine travels North almost solely because of Marsale’s efforts. Marsale had also developed a steadfast loyalty to Laurent, which made Damen’s life that much more difficult. Marsale carried out Laurent’s requests with the sanctity of law, and dropped them on Damen as if he weren’t the one in charge of putting money in Marsale’s pocket each month.

 

“His Majesty kindly asks you to…” Marsale looked down at the long piece of parchment he was holding, carrying his many orders of the day. “...get your lazed, loathsome, savage haunches out of bed and start leading your kingdom.”

 

Marsale looked up from his parchment for a brief moment. “His words, not mine, Exalted,” he added as way of apology.

 

Damen huffed and turned to his stomach, revealing the _savage haunches_ that Laurent usually regarded with much more endearment.

 

Marsale, it seemed, was not going to let him lay in any longer with Laurent’s orders pending. “He states that you have exactly a quarter hour before he expects your presence in the great hall. If you’d prefer him not to be seething in your company for the rest of the day, I suggest your arrival be made well before that deadline.”

 

Damen groaned into the pillow, catching a faint hint of Laurent’s scent that still lingered there without his physical presence. The whisperings of a dream came back to him, filling his chest with warmth despite the break of day chill.

 

_I missed you._

 

And Damen did. He missed Laurent, painfully so. It was probably the only reason that he levered himself up and out of the bed despite his exhaustion. When he finally blinked his eyes fully open and rubbed at them with the heels of his hands, he found Marsale smiling brightly at him.

 

“You’d best hurry, Exalted. He’ll have half of Akielos calling for his blond head on the traitor’s row if you don’t intervene soon.”

 

Damen resigned to his fate and held out his arms. Instantly fabric was draped around him and he was quickly dressed in an ivory chiton, glowing against his olive skin.

 

Ten minutes later he was stood in the great hall with the imperious King of Vere asking what had taken him so long.

  


xxxxx

  


When the preparations were set, just before the expected arrival of the Lissean ship, Damen retired to their chambers for a bath and to dress in more formal attire for the royal welcome. He had expected Laurent to join him for a brief few moments of solitude in the warm waters, but when he got up to the baths, Laurent was lacing up the front of his structured blue jacket, already wearing his boots with hair that was still a bit damp.

 

“I’d hoped you would wait for me,” Damen said softly, stepping forward to his husband. He gently brushed Laurent’s hands aside and continued the task, a well known practice by now. He strung the laces through the eyelets all the way up to Laurent’s pale throat. Laurent let Damen attend him, body held still, only moving to reach out his right wrist for Damen to lace the sleeve. When he finished the right, he reached for the left.

 

Damen paused in his task for a moment to bring Laurent’s left hand up to his lips. He first kissed the knuckles, and then placed a soft kiss over the gold cuff that still rested there, a match for his own. Laurent watched him wordlessly, blue eyes unreadable.

 

“I missed you too, you know,” Damen breathed against the warm skin of Laurent’s wrist, just under the cool, precious metal banding it.

 

“Today is important,” Laurent replied, voice not as commanding as Damen knew he’d meant it to be. “I can’t have you distracted.”

 

Damen smiled. “Then it’s probably a wise decision that you’re wearing this and not a chiton.”

 

“I’ll leave the public exposure to you.”

 

Laurent tapped Damen’s palm once, a direction to continue lacing his sleeve. Damen wanted to object for a moment, insist that Laurent leave this one undone to show off the gold beneath. But he knew better than to expect Laurent to be seen in public in anything less than impeccable Veretian style. What was underneath the layers of heavy fabric and innumerable laces was for Damen’s eyes only. Damen had no problem acknowledging he was selfish in that regard.

 

Instead, Damen lay one last kiss to the exposed cuff, then covered it with expensive blue fabric until Laurent was every bit the stately King of Vere the world saw him to be. To Damen, he was just a man. A beloved one.

 

“Can I ask again why today is important?” Damen risked.

 

Laurent gave him no ground.

 

“This is the first time we’re hosting a royal contingent together. As Kings. As partners,” Damen commented. If that was the reason behind Laurent’s frenzied demands for perfection, he needn’t worry. Laurent’s reputation might be that of a viper, but people were always fascinated by watching a snake charm before it struck. Damen was his perfect foil, playing the soothing melody to draw the snake to dance peacefully. Together they had led an army of bitter enemies storming through Vere to take the border, and then had ended the reign of not one but _two_ corrupted leaders. That part they’d done with just a handful of compatriots. There was nothing they couldn’t accomplish when bringing together Laurent’s head and Damen’s heart.

 

Laurent’s cool blue eyes regarded him pensively. “So me wanting to show off my Akielon King is met with such suspicion?”

 

“You didn’t want to show me off when I was your bed slave. I hardly believe you’ve become the boastful type now.”

 

Laurent’s eye narrowed ever so briefly. He reached a hand up to the shoulder clasp of Damen’s chiton. With a deft flick of his wrist it came undone, and then Damen was bare before him.

 

Laurent’s eyes traced a slow path from Damen’s feet on the wet tile up to his face. Damen felt his entire body flush from more than just the steam in the room, a hot burst of need at having Laurent’s eyes on him after so many days without. He was so close, within an arm’s reach, a breath’s length. But Laurent was untouchable, laced from boot to throat in navy and gold.

 

“You’re right. No reason to be boastful. None at all.”

 

Damen swallowed heavily as Laurent’s eyes dropped down again, seeing the proof of what his words alone could always do. Damen took a jilted step forward into Laurent’s space. Laurent countered with one back, ever the sure footed swordsman.

 

“There’s no time for that now. Bathe and dress. We’re meant to meet the Lisseans at the palace steps after the ceremonial parade. You’ll need to be...decent by then.”

 

“What am I meant to do?” Damen nearly whined, looking down at himself. He knew better than to ask for help.

 

Laurent’s lips curled up into a barely discernable smile. “You’ll need to solve that on your own. Use your imagination. I’m sure you can come up with something.”

  


“Maybe I’ll satisfy myself with thoughts of you playing pet for me at that inn in Nesson,” Damen replied casually. “I did so enjoy that shade of obedience on you. I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance.”

 

The look Laurent gave him was cold enough to freeze a fire. It said, _I am no pet, and your cock is going to suffer now for thinking otherwise._ He strode off in all his stately form, blond hair now dry and looking even more sunny against his dark jacket.

 

So that hadn’t worked.

 

Damen took longer than was probably acceptable getting ready, choosing to think morbid thoughts instead to bring himself back to composure. When he was done, he was back to being the competent King of Akielos again, albeit one with a put out husband instead of a pet.

 

He stood on the steps at Laurent’s side wearing a navy blue chiton with gold laurels resting in his dark hair. They stood together with Damen’s home at their backs to receive their royal guests. The parade approached the palace gates with the entirety of Akielos seeming to be crowding the square to catch a glimpse of their beloved royalty. Damen knew they were quite the site, no pair more contrary. But when Laurent’s left hand reached down and laced with Damen’s right, their cuffs clicking together quietly, Damen knew that it was in that duality that they found their strength.

 

The Lisseans ascended the steps, and Damen found himself perplexed by their appearance. Leading the group was a four piece of men in shining armour, flashing against dark skin and even darker eyes. They were all nearly as tall as Damen, with wide shoulders filled by muscle built for power. With the same shorn cut to their hair, they were almost identical. To match the glittering armour, their faces were painted with gold, accentuating their sharply structured features. They looked like soldiers, but there was something in the way they moved that reminded Damen of the expensively kept pets that sat at the sides of Veretian nobles.

 

Behind them was an even stranger sight, a group of brightly dressed and dark haired beauties, all women. With a single clearing of a throat from one of the women, the men in front of them parted, and it became exquisitely clear who was in charge. Exotic eyes captured attention over thinly veiled faces. And every pair of those foreign eyes was locked on Damen’s formidable frame.

 

Now Damen understood.

 

He held up his hands, silencing the chatter around them. His voice carried over the crowd like it would on the battlefield. “Our sisters from Lisse. We are privileged to welcome you to Ios.”

 

One of the women stepped forward, appearing to be older than the rest although it was difficult to tell behind the sheer veil. Her eyes were dark and shaped like almonds, lined in kohl.

 

“Our brother of Akielos. We are humbled to finally meet you,” she said, speaking heavily accented Akielon as Damen had never heard it. It made his rough native language sound almost beautiful. “The King of Vere spoke highly of you and your kingdom. He insisted we see it for ourselves.”

 

Damen’s eyes darted to his side for a moment, but Laurent’s face gave nothing away. He just watched the Lissean royal party with polite familiarity. His fingers, however, started to subtly move from where they were still tangled with Damen’s. Damen tried to squeeze down on them, but they were insistent in their pursuit. Laurent’s index began to trace over the line in Damen’s palm, sending a tingling pulse up his entire arm. Damen tried to ignore it, instead focusing his attentions on the women in front of him.

 

“And you shall,” Damen finally said. “But I’m sure your journey was long. I will have my staff show you to your accommodations so that you may rest before the evening’s festivities. There will be plenty of time for us to enjoy one another’s company then.”

 

Laurent’s relentless fingers only heightened their assault. Damen’s lips parted ever so briefly and he could feel himself stirring beneath his chiton. He was less in control of himself than he’d thought after Laurent’s previous teasing. The spark that was ignited in the baths was back to a crackling fire now. If Laurent didn’t stop, it was going to grow to a vicious blaze. It was a game meant for two played out for hundreds to see, and Damen knew that because it was being carried out so publicly, it must serve some purpose. He crushed his hand down around Laurent’s to stop him, but the damage was already done. Damen could already feel himself raging with need.

 

“We are greatly looking forward to that,” came the smooth reply, with a bat of dark lashes even longer than Laurent’s. By the look in her eyes, Damen’s chiton was doing little to cover the evidence of his arousal. Damen’s olive skin masked his blush, but only just.

 

As the Lissean party followed after them back into the palace, Damen looked again at Laurent, hand still immobile caught in Damen’s vice like grip. This time he was smiling. It was the same type of smile that a snake would wear right before it’s fangs dropped for the kill. Whatever game he was playing, it was clear he already figured he’d won.

  


xxxxx

  


After the Lisseans had retired to rest, Damen went to seek out Laurent to find out what was going on. Fueled by his pent up frustration, every step Damen took made his blood boil a degree hotter. After nearly an hours worth of searching, Laurent was still nowhere to be found, but Damen did manage to run across one of his men in the corridor to the training room.

 

“Jord,” Damen greeted, schooling his face to a friendly smile despite his rising temper.

 

Jord nodded respectfully, “Your Majesty.”

 

Damen opened his mouth to ask if Jord had seen Laurent, but Jord lifted a hand to stop him.

 

“No, I haven’t seen him,” he said.

 

Damen sighed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was never here at all. That his arrival was just a figment of my imagination, a cool specter teasing my mind. Fortunately I know that not to be true, considering the current state of my palace. His absence means he does not wish to be found, and I know better than to presume I can go against his desires.”

 

Jord’s smile was bright. “Since your efforts at royal cat and mouse are failing, might I suggest accompanying me to a meeting with members of the Lissean Assembly? I was actually looking for you at Nikandros’ request.”

 

Damen relented the chase for now and followed Jord to a private courtyard for informal meetings. He could already see Nikandros and Makedon present, accompanied by three Lisseans. Laurent was, of course, suspiciously missing.

 

“Your Grace,” one of the Lisseans said, placing a hand over his breastplate and bowing his head when Damen stepped forward. “I am Phanel, head of the royal Assembly of Lisse. We have requested an audience with you to discuss opening trade routes between our great kingdoms.”

 

This was a surprise. Akielos had not previously traded with Lisse, as they were a large country, well established, that didn’t often seek outside their borders for goods. Akielos had traded with their neighbor, Demethras, up until a year ago, but all attempts to gain Lisse’s attention had failed.

 

“We would be happy to begin such a relationship with your country,” Damen said, voice held steady. “Is there something in particular that you seek?”

 

Phanel nodded, as Damen knew he would. “We understand that you’ve recently begun to mine for sulfur. As I’m sure you are aware, it has many uses, both for military and medicinal purposes. We’d greatly like to have a steady supply and would be generous in our offerings in exchange.”

 

It was true that Akielos had started to mine sulfur in the past year, although Damen wasn’t quite sure where this distant foreigner had heard that. An undiscovered mine had been found on Isthima, and the priceless, yet odorous, substance was being pulled from the ground in haste. Already, Vere and Patras had been eager to offer their finest goods for some of the precious amber crystals. Damen was waiting for an attractive deal to make the trade worth his while.

 

Damen thought about what Akielos most needed, something they’d gone without for too long. “We are in need of oil. Another item with many uses. Our previous supplier no longer trades with us, and our reserves are depleting. I know that Lisse has some of the finest in the East. I would part with my sulfur in exchange for your oils.”

 

Phanel turned to his counterpart and they had a quiet exchange between them in their native tongue. Damen looked to Nikandros, whose eyes were sharp with anticipation over this deal. It would serve them well if it went through. Oil was of critical importance, for the royalty and townspeople alike. It was a staple of Akielon cooking, and necessary for keeping fires to warm their homes. It was the height of summer now, but winter always came far too quickly.

 

Finally Phanel turned back to Damen and extended a hand. “Your deal is acceptable to us. We can talk more tomorrow after the festivities. I’m happy that we’ve come to an agreement that is mutually beneficial. Your hospitality is greatly appreciated, your Grace. We shall see you at the banquet.”

 

Damen dismissed them with a gracious nod and waited until he was alone with Nikandros and Makedon to speak.

 

“Curious,” Damen remarked.

 

Makedon inclined his head. “We’ve just had our prayers answered, Exalted. I think best not to question it.”

 

“Really? That’s when I find it most prudent to do some digging. If you’ll excuse me, I need to take my leave to find a shovel. I will see you both tonight.”

 

As Damen left the courtyard, he caught a shock of blond hair, shining like sulfur crystals in the sun, swiftly ducking behind a column.

  


xxxxx

  


The splendor of the banquet was beyond anything that Akielos had seen in a long time. The great hall was transformed into something out of a dream, fine decor and food found wherever the eyes laid. The crowd of royalty made the room sparkle with the obvious signs of wealth. Veretians, Lisseans and Akielons all mingled together amidst the music and chatter, everyone in good spirits and loose with drink.

 

Damen sat on his throne on the dais with a throne on either side of him. One was occupied by the beautiful Empress of Lisse, who he’d met on the steps this afternoon. The other was empty, having been filled only for a brief moment at the start of the banquet by Laurent before he flitted away and left Damen to entertain his guests.

 

“Your kingdom is a marvel, King Damianos,” the Empress spoke. She extended her hand, holding out a chalice, and it was instantly filled with wine by one of her awaiting armor clad men. One was at her side while the rest were accompanying her daughters around the room as they met the nobles of Akielos. The three Lissean princesses rivaled their mother in beauty, all in stunning robes of fine silk, encrusted with jewels. They wore ornate headdresses, equally glittering, with the bottom part of their faces again obscured by veils.

 

“I’m glad you find our humble ways to your taste,” he spoke, taking a drink from his own chalice. It was ironic, in a sense, because their ways seemed to be much more in line with that of Vere. They seemed to value lavish excess, while Akielos prized a simpler existence.

 

“I am surprised to see that not much has changed from what I heard of the mighty Akielos, despite your recent abolishment of slavery. I was not expecting to find your country still in such state.”

 

Damen wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not. He decided on diplomacy as an answer, as always. “I have learned first hand that people are much more willing to do your bidding when given a choice. Freedom of will is something beyond price. Nothing is worth that in trade.”

 

The Empress looked down at the golden cuff on Damen’s right wrist. “Yes. I’ve heard the tales, although I wasn’t sure what to believe until now. ”

 

Damen was used to the looks, even more used to the whisperings. They had been dealing with it ever since he and Laurent rose to their thrones. It had taken a long time for people to warm to the idea of the Kings of Akielos and Vere being more than just a political alliance. But once they had seen the strength in the unity, had seen how it benefited both countries, acceptance was soon to follow. That didn’t mean that outside eyes weren’t still shocked by the scandal of it. Distance had a way of altering the truth.

 

Damen proceeded cautiously. “I am glad we’ve been able to enlighten you, then. If you’ve spent any time with my husband, I’m sure you’re aware that talking is something at which he excels. But some things just need to be seen to be believed.”

 

“My eyes are open, your Grace.”

 

With a seamless transition, the music began to swell into something heavier, darker, more alluring. The lighter Akielon style regressed into the sounds of Lisse. Damen had spent hours yesterday trying to make his body move to those beats, and it had been as strange and unnatural as he’d felt the first time he’d seen the customs of Vere when he’d been sent there as a bed slave.

 

Without delay, bodies started to crowd to the center of the room to begin dancing. Damen watched from the dais, and felt himself surprised when someone sat down in the throne to his left.

 

Laurent was settled into the throne as if he’d never been parted from it. He spoke, but his eyes were looking out over the hall. “Damianos, why don’t you lead the Empress in a dance?”

 

The Empress was surprised, turning to Damen. “You dance in our style?”

 

Damen’s jaw twitched as he looked over at Laurent. Laurent’s head did not turn.

 

“I’ve recently learned,” he stated grudgingly.

 

“The noble King of Akielos didn’t want the Empress of Lisse to go without a fitting partner,” Laurent replied.

 

The Empress stood. Instantly her gilted soldier stepped forward, but she waved him off. “Tonight Lisse will dance with Akielos,” she said, reaching a hand to Damen.

 

There was no way out. There was only the dance floor before him as Damen led her down the dais. Room was quickly cleared for them when the music stopped and a new song began just for them. Damen swallowed deeply and reached a hand out for her waist, the other wrapped around her wrist.

 

The dance began, and Damen felt himself uneasily trying to call upon his body to recall what he had learned. He hadn’t been expecting to share this type of dance with someone who wasn’t his husband when he’d been practicing yesterday.

 

If the Empress sensed his discomfort, she didn’t comment. “We usually do not insist our foreign friends dance in our style. The steps are complex, and the style is...different.”

 

It was not the word Damen would have chosen. Salacious, maybe. Overt. Something that belonged in the bedroom under sheets. Bodies pressed close, writhing and undulating. Already Damen could feel himself start to sweat at the feeling of bodies crowding all around him.

 

“I’m impressed,” the Empress said.

 

 _I’m mortified_ , Damen wanted to reply.

 

Damen caught sight of one of the Empresses armoured men out of the corner of his eye, dancing with one of the princesses. The Empress saw him watching and smiled, a quick flash as she turned in his arms to press her back to his chest. She angled her head up and spoke against his throat. “I’m sure you remember what that’s like.”

 

“Are they...pets?” He asked unsure if he was overstepping by asking something so blatant.

 

A melodic peal of laughter was breathed against his skin. The Empress turned back around. Her dark eyes were on him again. “Your Veretian is rubbing off on you.”

 

Damen figured that was true enough, _but_ _not as much as I’d like_ , his thoughts supplied.

 

“They are not slaves. And they are not pets. We prize strength in our culture, and reward it in kind. These are men who have served us in battle. They now enjoy the luxuries of royalty...and provide us with the means to produce more to carry on their legacy. Lisse is a place that appreciates what it means to be a man.”

 

The way she was looking at him had his pulse starting to race in panic. His eyes instantly scanned the room and were relieved to find Laurent approaching. His face was carefully masked, as if he was bored by the enthralling entertainment around him.

 

He stepped up to them and slid himself into their space like a serpent. “Empress, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I must introduce you to my Council while I have the chance. King Damianos will be happy to dance with one of your daughters in the meantime. It seems there is an unfortunate lack of men with his dancing skill here tonight.”

 

The Empress bowed deeply to Damen, “I thank you for your attentions, your Grace. My daughters will be equally pleased to dance in the arms of a man of your caliber tonight.”

 

Damen was fuming as he watched Laurent lead her away. Laurent, for his part, looked over his shoulder just long enough to tilt his head in the direction of one of the Empress’ daughters. He turned back around and led the Empress by the hand over to where his Council was waiting near the dais.

 

Damen closed his eyes for a moment before clenching his teeth and making his way to the first princess he could find.

 

“Your Highness?” he asked, tapping her male partner on the shoulder. “I would be honored if you would do me the pleasure of a dance.”

 

Her eyes lit up the same way her mother’s did. “The pleasure would be mine, your Grace.”

  


xxxxx

  


The evening went on much the same. Damen was cycled through the entire Lissean royal family by Laurent’s precise guidance. He never spent much time with any single partner, certainly not enough time for anything immoral to transpire despite the looks he was being given. Laurent always seemed to step in at just the right moment, requiring the attention of the princess or Empress for some urgent matter. Laurent himself had not taken a partner yet this evening, but his dealings were just as agile as any dance step, just as intricate and deliberate.

 

Damen would be fascinated if he wasn’t so furious.

 

His steps were a little less careful than they’d been from the fatigue of his feet when he swung the Empress’ youngest daughter, just shy of nineteen, up into his arms for a moment before setting her back down on the floor. His arms were aching with how many times he’d done that so far tonight. She giggled happily, a pretty flush rising in her cheeks.

 

“When King Laurent spent time at Lisse, did he partake in your unique style of dance?” Damen found himself asking. He wasn’t sure what he wanted the answer to be. It was clear based on watching around him that while Lisse valued the male form, it was not exclusively women doing the admiring. Couples of both sexes were paired on the floor. Damen watched as the man who had been dancing with the current princess, relieved of duties by Damen, was now dancing with a slighter man of Veretian heritage. Their bodies were melded from chest to toe, and Damen found himself flushing at the intimacy of it.

 

He definitely didn’t want to imagine Laurent that way in anyone’s arms. Especially not someone like the Lisseans’ prized studs. _Someone like you_ , his mind provided with a jealous snarl.

 

The princess shook her head. “No. He said he’s not sure of step. Not like you are,” she said dreamily, batting her lashes.

 

Laurent materialized at their sides, a polite smile on his lips. “Princess. You look flushed. Please allow me to accompany you for some refreshments. Have you tried the griva?”

 

The princess looked like she wanted to protest, eyes lingering on Damen, but Laurent’s earnest charm was undeniable.

 

Damen took his chance before it was lost. As Laurent was about to lead the princess away, Damen caught Laurent’s sleeve. “I’ve been waiting all night to dance with the most attractive man in the room,” he tried, working up his best smile.

 

Laurent looked at him indulgently. “I’m sure Nikandros would dance with you if you asked politely. Or maybe try finding a willing pet.”

 

Damen felt the curse rise in his throat, but before it passed his lips, Laurent was gone.

 

Damen stalked off the floor and found Nikandros already waiting for him. “I’m not dancing with you,” Damen snapped.

 

Nikandros chuckled. “Yes. I’m well aware I’m not your type.”

 

“He’s up to something,” Damen said lowly, eyes tracking where Laurent was holding court with the Empress and one of the princesses by the table of refreshments and food. Laurent’s eyes were on him as well, especially when he raised a slice of orange up to his lips, sucking the sweet juices from it’s rind. Damen’s hands clenched.

 

“When is he not?” Nikandros commented idly. “My suggestion? Let him do his work.”

 

Nikandros went to leave, but stopped briefly before he did. He turned back and tossed something to Damen. Damen was barely able to get his hands up to catch it before it hit him in the chest.

 

“He says to give your feet a moment to rest, and then to find another princess to entertain, Exalted. Just passing on the message.”

 

Damen looked down at the object in his hand. A ripe orange, tender and soft. His eyes sought out Laurent again. Laurent smiled across the room and raised another slice of his own orange in salute. Then he brought it to his lips again, a satisfied smirk curving their shape.

 

Damen would burn down the entire palace at Ios right this very moment, Lissean royalty be damned, if he could have just a taste of that sweet flavor off of Laurent’s lips.

 

“You want me to entertain like a pet? Alright,” Damen huffed to himself. He marched over to the nearest princess and swept her into his arms. Laurent’s smile wasn’t quite so satisfied anymore.

  


xxxxx

  


The night wound to a closer as the griva ran out and the celebrations started to become more slurred and swayed. Damen waited until the great hall was all but cleared out before he worked his way back to his chambers to retire.

 

He wasn’t surprised to find Laurent already there, sitting casually on the edge of the bed in the gentle light of a dozen candles. He had another orange in his hands, half peeled, the discarded rind making a mess on the floor. The laces of his sleeves were undone, but the rest of him was still impenetrable. Damen inhaled and smelled the scent of citrus mixed with something else that he knew so well, the same scent that he’d awoken to this morning on his pillow.

 

“Lover,” Laurent said by way of greeting, not looking up from his task.

 

Damen stalked forward and carefully plucked the fruit from his hand. “Laurent.”

 

Laurent’s eyes slowly tracked up Damen’s body until they met his gaze.

 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

 

Laurent leaned back on the bed, supporting his weight with his hands. “Haven’t you figured it out? You’re usually much sharper. Have you partaken in too much griva, or are you just too fatigued from all your expenditure on the dance floor?”

 

Damen stepped forward, putting himself in between the V of Laurent’s legs. “I know you were pawning me off to the entirety of the Lissean royal family tonight. I know you had something to do with setting up a meeting between myself and the head of the Lissean Assembly about opening trade routes. What I don’t know is _why_.”

 

Laurent pursed his lips, reaching out for the orange again, but Damen instead tossed it on the bed behind him, out of reach.

 

Laurent huffed, as if having to voice it was exhausting him. “Lisse is a strong ally in the East. A place to station troops if needed. A place to replenish supplies. I had no doubt the formidable King of Akielos could charm Lissean hearts to establish good will between our home lands. After spending time in the capital, I learned a great deal about their culture. I thought that if alliance was the goal, it would be best to appeal to their tastes.”

 

Damen thought of the kept men the Lissean women had brought, tall and dark with the promise of strength rivaling Damen’s. Their value in the male form reminded Damen of the mountain clans in Vask. Laurent’s particular appeals - and cow lashes - would probably not be of much sway with the Lisseans.

 

“Another interesting thing I learned on my travels,” Laurent continued, “is that Lisse shares a border with Demethras. You are acquainted with them, I’m sure, as they’d previously been long partners in trade with Akielos. Their primary export is spices, wasted on the bland palates of Akielons, I’m afraid. But they also trade oils, something of which Akielos now finds itself in short supply. Up until last year, the Demethrans were happy to ship their goods to you in exchange for receival of Akielos’ primary export.”

 

“Slaves,” Damen finished, now suddenly understanding.

 

Laurent nodded once. “They aren’t happy to have lost their supply. There has been some unrest. Whispers. Shouts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard your name cursed in the guttural language of Demethras. My stay there was quite brief before my advisors thought it prudent for us to leave.”

 

“I'm sure they weren't pleased with you, thinking your relations with me might have swayed my ideals about the morality of slavery.”

 

“Suffice it to say they didn't throw a welcome parade at my arrival, but probably did at my departure.”

 

“To think that Vere, a land known for debauchery and depravity, had a hand in destroying the practice of slavery. All because it’s King went and fell for his barbarian bed slave.”

 

Laurent snorted, “Akielos slaves were prized for their beauty and obedience. Impeccably trained, docile to a fault, and eager to serve. I wouldn’t know much about that, but I’ve heard word of it.”

 

Damen smiled. “I would wager you’re not entirely unaware of Akielon affections. I did nearly sacrifice my kingdom, if memory serves correctly.”

 

“We have both bled for our countries.” _For each other_ , Damen knew he meant.

 

“I shouldn’t be surprised by your plots anymore.”

 

“I know it’s hard for an Akielon mind to follow. Just be happy you have a Veretian at your side.”

 

“Protecting what’s mine?” Damen asked.

 

Laurent slowly shook his head, standing to bring himself closer. He reached a hand up and cupped Damen’s cheek, palm warm despite his icy appearance.

 

“Protecting what’s _mine_ ,” he replied, eyes and mind only on Damen.

 

“So gaining Lisse’s friendship is a preemptive strike.”

 

“I do always tell you that the war is won before it is fought. Demethras will not attack without the backing of Lisse, which they will not have after your benevolent display tonight. I’m quite certain that the Empress and all her daughters are quite fond of King Damianos’ light feet,” Laurent’s eyes flicked down to the front of Damen’s chiton, “and evident manhood.”

 

“So you’ve secured me a powerful Eastern ally. You’ve ensured that Akielos will have the oil we so desperately need. And you’re trying to stud me to the Lisseans now too?”

 

Laurent cracked a smile. “Did you not enjoy when I did the same in Vask?”

 

“I think things have changed since then, don’t you?” Damen asked, brushing a strand of Laurent’s fair hair from his face.

 

Laurent paused. Then a soft admittance, “I found it more difficult than expected to watch you tonight.”

 

“Because of my poor dancing abilities?” Damen asked in gentle jest.

 

Laurent’s eyes were serious when they met Damen’s.

 

Damen’s smile faded. “Given a choice, I would not have picked another partner.”

 

“You have a choice now,” Laurent murmured.

 

Damen wrapped an arm around Laurent’s waist, pulling him close. Laurent’s arms encircled his neck the next moment. They swayed together in the silence of the room, not quite the Lissean style or that of Akielos or Vere, but a style all their own.

 

When it was too quiet, Laurent started humming a tune with which Damen was quite familiar.

 

Damen chuckled. “Do you find pleasure in making a mockery of the respected songs of my people?” It wasn’t technically a respected song. In fact it was a song that fit much better amid post-battle celebrations fueled by wine and griva, sung in voices that were slurred and out of tune.

 

Laurent hummed a few more bars before he entertained Damen’s question. “I did not realize a song about a fair haired whore who turns the head of a King is a respected song in Akielos.”

 

“You’re right,” Damen said, full of Akielon pride, “That kind of behavior is much more representative of Veretian customs. Does it speak to you in some way? I can certainly draw parallels.”

 

Laurent blinked once, a flutter of long, blond lashes. “What are you implying, Exalted?” he spoke, voice sweet like candied figs.

 

“About you, your Highness? I wouldn’t dare.”

 

Damen was not Laurent’s slave any longer despite still wearing his gold cuff, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been trained to Laurent’s ways. One wrong word could send Laurent on a singular mission of revenge that would not end until Damen was sufficiently gutted like a speared boar. Damen had become acutely aware of where that fine line was drawn, and always strove to stay on the side of it that wouldn’t leave him with an ache at the core of his manhood when Laurent refused to acknowledge his needs. Laurent had always possessed more steely reserve than Damen when it came to repressing pleasure.

 

“You didn't dance in Lisse,” Damen found himself saying, choosing to step back over the line in interest of self preservation.

 

“I prefer to do my dancing in private.”

 

“Like you do your fighting?” Damen asked.

 

Laurent hesitated.

 

“You can tell me things, you know. You're not alone,” Damen murmured, pressing his lips to the top of Laurent’s blond head.

 

Laurent sighed. His shoulders slumped and he folded himself further into Damen’s chest. “I know. But if I had told you this, you would not have been yourself tonight. And I needed my charming Akielon husband. I needed _you_. Not a desperate King looking to protect his throne.”

 

“We made an agreement after we took our thrones. When we decided to tie our lives and our countries together. When we wed. No more secrets. They nearly cost us our lives last time. I will not take that chance again. I have too much I cherish now to take those kinds of risks.”

 

Laurent looked up at him, eyes wide and blue. Innocent despite all they’d seen. “And what do you cherish?” he asked quietly.

 

Damen pressed his forehead against Laurent’s. “I prefer to show you. Words have always been your gift. Not mine.”

 

“So show me. Use these,” Laurent said, lifting his arms off of Damen’s shoulders to reach for Damen’s hands.

 

“And these.”

 

He brushed his fingertips over Damen’s lips.

 

“And this.”

 

A fleeting touch to his cock below his chiton.

 

“But most of all with this.”

 

A kiss pressed over his heart.

 

“The only language we need is the one spoken when we don’t say anything at all. Touch me, and I’ll feel your words written on my skin.”

 

Damen did not need further instruction. He made quick work of loosening the front of Laurent’s laced jacket, following his hands with his lips as each new bit of Laurent was revealed beneath. With the sleeves already undone, it was quick work to divest Laurent of his jacket, leaving him in his shirt beneath, porcelain white to match his fair skin.

 

Damen next set to remove his pants, then his boots, until Laurent was standing before him in just his shirt, hanging to mid thigh. His cheeks were stained a warm blush, the same shade as the orchids in the gardens at the summer palace. Damen thought about how much he’d like to lay Laurent out among those flowers and try to see how much of Laurent’s skin he could make turn that same color with his gentle attentions.

 

“I will not beg,” Laurent told him, voice on the edge of breaking.

 

“You will never have to beg with me. I surrender it to you freely.”

 

Laurent shook his head. “No. You are done surrendering. To me. To anyone.”

 

“Slaves surrender their bodies. But that’s not what I’m offering.”

 

Laurent’s eyes were the color of the summer rains, heavy with salt, that fell from the skies during the wet season. Those cool showers were welcome to the fields, welcome to reprieve the heat that settled over Akielos. Damen needed the look in Laurent’s eyes as much as his lands needed the water. Damen closed his eyes and let it fall over him, bringing with it new life and new love.

 

Damen didn’t open his eyes as Laurent’s hands slid up his arms until they reached the shoulder clasps of his chiton, crested with the fierce lion of his lineage. Laurent unfastened them, then parted the chiton, leaving him stripped as if he was not already before this man.

 

“I’ll take what you’re offering. And I’ll give equally in return,” Laurent told him as he removed his own top until he too was left without his defenses.

 

“A trade?” Damen asked, smile growing.

 

“You seem to be doing well with them today.”

 

It took no effort to wrap his hands around Laurent’s waist, marveling in the contrast between his own ripened skin and Laurent’s alabaster coloring. He let his fingers trace Laurent’s ribs, over his sharp collarbones, across the vicious scar that still branded his right shoulder, down his arms, until they fastened around his wrists, around the cuff.

 

He brought those hands up to his lips to kiss before he pressed forward. Laurent sank down to the bed, and Damen followed him without separating their bodies. With his hands caught in Damen’s, Laurent lifted his arms above his head, Damen keeping them there with gentle pressure.

 

It was always a risk this way. Laurent did not like to be held down. But right now he wasn’t making to move, pushing away Damen’s body until he could control the situation again. Tonight, he let himself take what Damen wanted to give, let himself accept it all as if he knew nothing else about the way love was made. On nights like this, Damen didn’t think his love for Laurent would ever run out, that it must be in infinite supply. A precious good, in inexhaustible excess. Even so, it always felt like he was getting the better deal, because Laurent’s love was something truly remarkable in its own quiet way. It was never shouted or thrown around carelessly. It was never used for other ends. It was never given and then taken back the next moment. It was just there. A constant that Damen knew, despite its unfailing presence, he’d never take for granted.

 

Damen pushed himself up until he was hovering over Laurent, looking down at him spread beneath. Laurent’s face was fixed in a passive look of unending patience, but his eyes gave him away. As they always did.

 

Tonight’s passion would not be the type of fire that needed stoking. It was already a blazing inferno, burning through it’s tinder and then looking for whatever else it could consume in its haste to breathe.

 

Without looking away from Damen, Laurent reached to the side of the bed and wrapped his fingers around a small, glass phial. He brought it back between them and pressed it into Damen’s hand.

 

“I’m glad you’ll soon be getting a greater supply.”

 

The heat of the moment was quenched briefly. Damen dropped his face to Laurent’s neck and let himself laugh. “I was wondering how long it would take before you made light of our new trade agreement with Lisse.”

 

Damen could feel the curve of Laurent’s smile against his cheek. “At least now the quality of your import will be better.”

 

“Stop.”

 

“You know you’re always going to have to make me.”

 

Damen did, with a kiss that still tasted of oranges when Laurent’s mouth was claimed. Sweet and sharp. Like home.

 

And with that, teasing was done and the fire returned. Damen’s fingers mapped Laurent’s frame, reacquainting himself with all the sensitive spots that made Laurent shiver despite the heat rising between them. He slipped a hand down and found Laurent already wanting, rivaled only by his own desperate need. It took no work to remove the stopper from the phial and spill the slick oil over his fingers.

 

Sometimes it still felt like that first time. There were moments when they were locked together like this and Damen couldn’t believe they had found this feeling in one another. It was so unlikely, too distant a dream. Yet here they were. Always coming back to each other in every way that mattered. Mind, body and soul.

 

“Don’t leave again. Don’t go somewhere I cannot follow,” Damen pleaded with his lips pressed to the hollow of Laurent’s throat, where his scent was always strongest.

 

“You were with me. You are always with me.”

 

The gilded cuff pressed to Damen’s back as Laurent pulled him closer.

 

“As you are with me.”

 

Damen’s fingers found Laurent’s opening, and Laurent’s eyes closed as sensation overruled the need to see. Damen pressed a single digit forward and Laurent gasped, having gone too long without.

 

Laurent distracted himself from the brief moment of discomfort by searing his lips to Damen’s, tangling their tongues in a dance to rival the style of Lisse.

 

When Damen felt Laurent’s body give, he gently pressed another finger forward. Laurent hissed, fingers weaving into Damen’s hair. He tugged just hard enough that Damen shared his exquisite pain for a fleeting moment.

 

“Now,” Laurent demanded.

 

“Easy. Are you planning on going somewhere again? We have time.”

 

Laurent’s dark eyes opened. He drew Damen’s head back with the hand still wound in his hair. “There is never enough of it with you. Sometimes I feel like I am always trying to make up for the time I missed when I felt nothing but hate.”

 

Damen pushed his fingers forward, then drew them back smoothly. Laurent matched his breaths to the pace of Damen’s ministrations.

 

“This is not hate,” Damen whispered. He and Laurent both knew exactly what it was. There was no question now.

 

When Damen drew his hand back from Laurent’s center, Laurent went to turn on his stomach, but Damen stopped him with a gentle hand held to his chest. He could feel the flutter of Laurent’s heart beneath his ribs.

 

“I want to see you. Let me lay my eyes on you tonight.”

 

So Laurent stayed on his back, Damen blanketing him. His pale thighs lifted gently until they wrapped around Damen’s waist. With a hand supporting himself next to the fall of Laurent’s fair hair, Damen reached down to position himself where he most desired to be.

 

The first push barely breached. It wasn’t until Laurent relinquished the breath he was clutching in his chest that Damen was able to sink into soft heat and lose himself there. Damen gasped at the sudden sensation, always a moment of shock that nearly made him forfeit control. Laurent bore down and Damen fought himself back to the surface despite the overwhelming waves of pleasure that threatened to drown him in this first moment of union.

 

Damen steadied himself by listening to the panting breaths of Laurent beneath him. Each shudder of his chest cleared Damen’s head until he could think beyond the need to spill.

 

With a measured draw of his hips, he pulled himself back, and then drove forward again. The fingerprints Laurent left in his back would likely bruise, although Damen’s skin was not nearly as willing to display assaults. Not like Laurent’s skin. Damen had learned that pale flesh became an explicit canvas of passion if he was not careful. He thus treated Laurent’s body with the gentle reverence it deserved. He did not like leaving marks. They did not belong on a body that was meant to be loved. Laurent had known too much of the opposite in his tender twenty five years. Damen would go to his grave to protect him from ever enduring that pain again.

 

Damen found a steady pace to fit the exhales of Laurent’s sighs. It didn’t take long for Laurent to start trembling beneath him, legs quivering and losing their grip. Damen wrapped a careful hand around Laurent’s thigh to keep it in place.

 

“ _I missed you. I missed you. I missed you_ ,” Laurent chanted, a prayer asked in hopes of never needing to say it again. His words gave out when his breaths were not able to draw in enough air to provide them sound.

 

“I am here.”

 

“ _Damen_.”

 

Laurent shook apart as he came, back arched off the bed bringing them closer together. Damen held himself off long enough to hear the final sigh of Laurent’s release before he could do nothing but follow. As he always would.

 

He emptied himself into Laurent’s willing body and let the fires consume him until he was nothing but smoke, curling adoringly around the reason his heart had been set ablaze.

 

Damen’s body gave way when his arms could no longer hold himself up. He collapsed down on top of Laurent with a heavy grunt. Laurent let him stay there for a few moments before he started to twist his body in search of relief from the crushing weight of Damen’s larger frame.

 

“I’ll move in a minute,” Damen mumbled into what he was fairly certain was Laurent’s armpit. He could not muster the energy to open his eyes to find out.

 

Laurent huffed. The movement of his chest jostled Damen enough to clear some space. Just enough to afford Laurent oxygen, not enough to allow him a full breath.

 

“If I let you, you would sleep this way,” Laurent said.

 

“Over you?”

  
“Inside me.”

 

“Mm. That too.”

 

Reluctantly, Damen drew back. He kept them joined for just one more moment with his tip still inside, hating this separation even though he knew it would probably not be long lived. They would rest just long enough until they were ready again. Damen planned to spend more time with their bodies twined together than apart over the coming days.

 

The Lisseans might not get a proper send off from Akielos if the King could not leave his bed...or more aptly, the body of his husband.

 

“When do the Lisseans leave?” Damen asked, trying not to sound like a petulant child.

 

Laurent chuckled, pushing at Damen’s chest until he finally slid free. “Tomorrow. I will not allow you to destroy the new bonds of friendship we have cultivated because you cannot stop rutting like a Spring buck.”

 

Damen sighed, feeling his lips turn down.

 

“But when they are gone...” Laurent began.

 

The sparkle in his eyes had Damen instantly smiling again.

 

“We shall leave for the summer palace as soon as their sails unfurl,” Damen finished happily.

 

Laurent hummed sleepily, already arranging himself into Damen’s side. Damen wrapped his arms around him and pressed a long kiss to the crown of his head. In turn, Laurent’s arm settled over his chest, palm pressed to his sternum where his heart was still thumping erratically.

 

Damen enjoyed several long minutes of stillness before it was broken by Laurent’s fidgeting. When Damen opened his eyes and looked down, he was met by Laurent back to peeling the orange he’d been working on when Damen had first come into the room. As Laurent peeled a new rind, he placed it on Damen’s chest, balancing them precariously over his muscle. Damen suppressed the urge to twitch and send Laurent’s careful work to the sheets.

 

When Laurent had finally finished peeling the fruit, he slid the first slice into his mouth.

 

“I have missed the taste of oranges on my travels,” he said when his mouth was empty.

 

A kiss was stolen. Sweet, but soon to be sweeter.

 

“As have I, my love. As have I.”

  
They finished the orange between them, but there would always be more to share.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat on Tumblr (RealityBetterThanFiction). I love talking Captive Prince! I could literally talk about it all day...not kidding.
> 
> Team Lamen!
> 
> Cheers! xoxo


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